


One blackout (changes the lights)

by jongdae



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - MAMA (Music Video), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongdae/pseuds/jongdae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One blackout changes the lights of Do Kyungsoo's very monotone and lonely life. Originally posted on Exoments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One blackout (changes the lights)

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: crack, cheesiness, crudeness

**i. the quintessential(s)**

There’s really just one – or at most two, maybe three – rule(s) to abide to, and it’s really not that difficult. 

It might _only_ prove to be difficult when you’re living with three roommates. 

Kyungsoo groans, wheezes, squeezes his eyes shut, massages his temples as Chanyeol throws fireballs at Jongdae who whips lightning back, while Baekhyun is just stood there glowing like a second sun no one ever asked for.

 _Rephrase_. 

It is only _outrageously_ difficult when you’re living with three _obnoxious, loud_ toddler-minded roommates _with superpowers_ that they are supposed to keep _secret_. 

You know. _Secret_. In the hiding. Invisible. Incognito. NO open performances. NO bloody show-and-tells to your good old neighbourhood primary schools. Just no. Just fuck you Park Chanyeol, NO, NO BUTS, now put out that fire.

 

Rule Number One (most times known as “The Only Rule, Chanyeol NO BUTS”): Do not bloody showcase your powers outside of the house. Apartment. This three-and-a-half flat meant for half a pixie, although technically they’re like one human being, a fairy, a perm disaster, and a giraffe.

Every other subsequent rule, like Rule Number One Point One (which is “No Alcohol Baekhyun NO BUTS”) are just derivatives and they really all come down to the same thing.

There’s also Rule Number One Point Forty-Six, which is Don’t Put Your Dirty Socks Under Kyungsoo’s Pillow, for he _will_ not hesitate to murder you. Or, alternatively, cause a 7.1 earthquake and have headlines in the news in the next second saying “7.1 earthquake makes disastrous impact on the history of S— where the last recorded earthquake was actually back during the Big Bang.” 

 

Chanyeol learned that last one the hard way.

 

 

**ii. fire**

Kyungsoo has basically always lived alone in a small flat with an okay-sized living, a small kitchen, a smaller toilet, and a closet that the agent calls a full-fledged bedroom.

Technically it’s enough for Kyungsoo (let’s not talk about what his salary can or cannot afford). He has several dark cacti and black penguin statuettes lined up on his windowsill, fish-shaped wooden wind-chimes above them, his gran’s hand-me-down black leather loveseat with a hint of vintage-y scratches, a murky fridge, and a dark-wood chest of clothes organized in color, except they’re all black.

In fact, everything is pretty much black. Because black is the only new black for Kyungsoo. Life is so much simpler that way. 

It _was_ simple until one day, the lights go out at around eleven-thirty P.M. and Kyungsoo realizes he can’t find his way around his apartment unless he steps out – it doesn’t help that his eyesight is pretty poor too. 

So he steps out. 

He walks out with his wallet and a frown and the goal of getting some kind of flashlight or candle and matchsticks. He was at the climax scene of a young-adult novel and there’s no way he’s waiting for the break of dawn to know if the vampire hunk dies or not.

He walks to the convenience store nearest to his place but finds that it had closed thirty minutes earlier. 

“Convenient,” Kyungsoo deadpans, but he remembers there’s a twenty-four-seven store at the second corner, so he walks there albeit the deeper frown to his poor forehead and the irate temper to his gait.

But before he reaches there, he passes an alleyway between two nondescript buildings and finds a peculiar scenario.

“You fucking stay away from Nini or I will burn your eyes, intestines and nuts,” growls a tall man with prominent crimson hair, brilliant eyes, and a pleasantly deep voice, to another guy who is really not interesting enough to describe.

Not interesting enough _not_ because the latter guy somehow looks like a mafia boss and mafia bosses are totally typical and an everyday-life thing, but because it’s relatively not that interesting when the crimson-haired tower-like man has fire burning metaphorically from his eyes, and literally from his hands.

Literally, from his _hands_.

Kyungsoo is calm enough to hold back any words of utter shock (HOLY SHITE) but not calm enough to hold back his one loud gasp. He clasps both of his hands over his mouth and his eyes widen even more – and no one thought that was even possible.

Both men turn their heads to him.

“Uh hi, carry on, I’m sorry, I just needed some candles and matches I’ll leave you be, bye,” Kyungsoo says very quietly, and walks away very _very_ casually.

 

Around a few thuds, a muffled scream, two more thuds and some form of evil laughter in the far distance, Kyungsoo starts feeling that he is being followed by the tall man, who’s clearly done with his former business.

“Hey.”

Kyungsoo breaks into cold sweat, but he doesn’t turn and keeps walking, picking up his pace.

“Hey, you.”

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Keeps on walking.

“Hey shorty.”

Kyungsoo halts and turns on his heels and gives his best death glare.

“What do you want?” Kyungsoo snarls, but then he is still not entirely sure what the odds were of him winning over someone who can summon fire from their hands. 

“No well, uhh, I just need— I need you to uhh,” the tall guy stutters all over his sentence and even recoils a bit, which gives Kyungsoo some confidence to say more. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” he cuts in, “I didn’t mean to peek; you couldn’t possibly think that alleyway was discreet? You guys just happened to be on my way to candles and matches—”

“—that’s it! You wanted matches,” the man chirrups. “I can provide that, sort of.”

Kyungsoo blanks out.

“I have… fire! Like, I can summon it!”

“…”

“Ye…ah. So What I mean is—”

“…”

“—I need a place for the night?”

 

 

**iii. light**

Kyungsoo lives with a giraffe in his tiny three-and-a-half.

Stove gas bills are resolved. Heating too. The tall guy is called Park Chanyeol, and he is a clingy and lanky and loud and toothy freelance debt collector – Kyungsoo snorts – and unfortunately not a cool vigilante tuxedo hunk with a hidden identity who works as an everyday businessman by sunlight and saves the world from evil by moonlight. 

They live a comfy life where Chanyeol tries to fit himself in the bedroom-slash-closest and Kyungsoo sleeps on the couch because he never liked the stuffy room anyways. Sometimes Chanyeol burns something, like the black chest of drawers, so it has to be replaced. Hence the new redwood chest of drawers that now stands in the original’s corner.

Life isn’t as simple as it had once been. Chanyeol likes to show off his fire a lot and Kyungsoo finds that rather dangerous. Well, pyromaniacs are dangerous by default, but there are some other aspects as well.

For instance, it is very hard to explain to the police that the purple fire that broke out and died away real fast was just the neighbours hallucinating. 

Not to mention, Park Chanyeol is also hiding away from the mafia and crime lords and yakuza and important men from surreptitious organizations that secretly own the whole of Beijing, Seoul and Tokyo’s underworld. Showing less of his fire would be for the best. 

It should technically go without saying. But Kyungsoo is dealing with Park Chanyeol. He’s learned that anything is possible when you have a few less brain cells and flaky common sense.

But sometimes Kyungsoo likes the company and thinks it’s okay. Thinks it’s nice to have someone to fight with, for the last cookie, for the remote control. He thinks it’s nice to have a bit of friendly warmth in the flat when he comes back home from a tiring workday, have someone to chat with when he feels a bit lonely and unmotivated.

 

Little did he expect that, a couple of months after Chanyeol settled down, somebody would yodel outside during the witching hour, hiccup, sing, howl like a wolf, call out “SARANGHAE YO”, sob pathetically and collapse under Kyungsoo’s flat’s window, and that Park Chanyeol would look out because he’s too curious for his own good. 

“Hey Kyungsoo, come look… this guy is _glowing_.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t bother looking up from his novel because he knows Chanyeol exaggerates all the time.

“He’s… glowing like a… broken disco ball.”

Kyungsoo definitely doesn’t bother going over to the window. He flips a page.

“HEY!! ARE!!! YOU!!! ALRIGHT!!!” Chanyeol screams out. 

Kyungsoo sighs, puts down his book reluctantly, stands up and walks to his flatmate calmly and armchoke him equally calmly.

 _That_ is when he sees _him_.

A boy with a glowing head. Glowing, _as in_ , it’s glowing neon rainbow colours from the boy’s skin.

It’s mesmerizingly eccentric; Kyungsoo and Chanyeol just can’t help staring.

Two minutes later, the neighbour, an equally eccentric Chinese expat called Luhan, from the opposing building, pops out his head and screams, “Fuck, is that your night-light or something? Can you please turn it off? I can’t sleep and I have sunglasses on? Is this legal?”

So Chanyeol goes out and picks up the glowing-head boy and brings him in without further ado.

The next morning, they wake up to someone singing, and it is half fascinating, half terrifying.

“Oh hi you two sleepyheads,” the voice croons, “thanks for letting me crash last night I was a _teensy_ bit drunk only a teensy bit haha and must have gone home with the wrong company and hahaha silly friends of mine probably forgot me because they can get pretty drunk too and end up sending their friends to strangers’ houses and their strangers to friends’ houses ridiculous right and oh did you happen to find me with a bag because I had a cute messenger bag and I’m not sure if I had it when you picked me up wait I actually don’t remember your faces at all did you go to whatshisname’s party last night oh my god why do you look like you’re about to kill me I’M INNOCENT—”

“Just stop,” Kyungsoo groans, a hand up, while Chanyeol just gapes. 

“Yeah sorry _that_ was rude, I forgot to introduce myself. Hi I’m Byun Baekhyun, I’m from – !” the lad starts.

Chanyeol extends a hand and they shake. “Park Chanyeol. This shorter one is Do Kyungsoo. By the by, I’m just curious … are you secretly some kind of firefly? With strobe light options? You were glowing last night.”

Baekhyun then literally turns a dangerous bright red.

“Oh.”

The lightboy pulls up the back of his hand against his forehead and dramatizes: “There goes my cool image, cast into the air, gone with the wind.”

“I’m pretty sure you cast it away the second you started talking like commas didn’t exist,” Chanyeol corrects after a clear of the throat. “The disco ball light thing was amazing though, on the other hand.”

Kyungsoo groans.

 

 

**iv. thunder**

Kyungsoo lives with Chanyeol and a fairy called Byun Baekhyun. The type of annoying glowing fairy who talks too much, states the obvious, follows you around without fail, blablabla. 

Now Kyungsoo has cacophony as a house, Disney Princess faces on his shower curtains, and a tiny miniature indoor sun. Byun Baekhyun takes care of electricity bills and it’s a nicer upgrade from candlelight (which Chanyeol used to provide once in a while when they’re broke as hell). 

Byun Baekhyun is also the main cause for Rule Number One Point One (No Alcohol) because he is a handful even when he is just slightly tipsy, and sometimes Chanyeol joins in too, and they get drunk together like it’s a thing and sing acapella mashups complete with high note and rap solos and a disco ball and endgame vomit. 

 

Life is not simple anymore, at all, Kyungsoo observes. But at least it’s merrier. His house was getting a bit small, but he doesn’t mind that much. He likes it that he gets to start using the extra rice bowls he has in his cupboard that had been sitting there since forever.

The ones that are sold as a set of four when they’re on sale at the supermarket.

Kyungsoo supposes it means there might a fourth flatmate soon. 

And soon comes soon.

 

A guy, with middle-parted curly hair – a conceivably dubious perm job – and thick-  
framed glasses, is standing at the doorframe with a sports bag and a pink suitcase that  
– perhaps sadly – matches with his socks. 

“Oh my god can we buy him?” Baekhyun says two seconds after he opens the door and digests the cookie he was eating and what he sees.

“I think I got the wrong flat, sorry,” the guy retreats slightly and starts looking at the other door numbers. “Is this the second floor?”

Chanyeol, from behind Baekhyun, answers – or just doesn’t really answer but asks, “Wait … Aren’t you Kim Jongdae?? Nini’s eldest brother??”

“ _Second_ elder brother, yes,” the poodle-haired guy corrects glumly. “Also his name is Kim Jongin. Don’t call him Nini. That’s a family thing.” A stern pause ensues. “ _You_ ’re Park Chanyeol.”

“Yes,” Chanyeol’s voice falls a few notches. Baekhyun squirms uncomfortably and stays rather uncharacteristically quiet. 

“How did you find me?” Chanyeol demands warily. 

“I’m guessing Destiny because I wasn’t planning to find you,” the lad replies, he himself not exactly amused.

“Then what brought you here in the first place?” Chanyeol asks.

“A friend told me apartment two-fourteen here might accommodate me.”

Baekhyun stares up discreetly at the door because he has actually lived there for several days without knowing their apartment number. 

Two-fourteen it is.

“— I need a place to stay. I’ve… some difficulties,” Jongdae starts again, but then Chanyeol cuts him off with “No. Sorry. Try someone else. I’m closing the door.”

Baekhyun blocks it. “Chanyeol, he seems nice? I bet Kyungsoo wouldn’t mind.”

Chanyeol eyes Baekhyun and tries sending him telepathic messages screaming LET GO OR I WILL BURN YOUR VOCAL CHORDS!! I’M SERIOUS!! 

“Besides, this isn’t my place, so it’s not for me to say,” Chanyeol says coolly to both Jongdae and Baekhyun before he tries shoving the door closed again, only this time it’s blocked by Kyungsoo’s hand.

“Why are you guys all talking about me like I’m not here,” Kyungsoo mumbles and Jongdae just blinks several times, cocks his head to find Kyungsoo and then smiles.

“Hi! You’re Park Chanyeol’s landlord? I did not want to resort to this, but I’m afraid you’ll have to keep me or I can expose you _all_ to some trouble with the mafia,” Jongdae says in a friendly manner, twinkling eyes and a cute smile. “Or you know. Electrocute you all.”

 

 

**v. stuff happens and then we have a drink**

Kim Jongdae is a mystery to Kyungsoo, but fortunately he is also a decent upgrade from Baekhyun’s disco ball lighting and Chanyeol’s candle fire: having unlimited pure electricity for free is one of the sweetest things he’ll ever know. The perks are too great for him to care about Chanyeol’s pathetic warnings against Jongdae:

“He could sell us to sharks, feed us to slave-traders!”

 _Right._

“You’re overdramatic,” Baekhyun comments while busily flicking through his Instagram selfies, the only reason why he would ever keep relatively quiet and down-to-earth. Bless Chanyeol for introducing the fairy-boy to it.

Jongdae puts away his futon and barely mutters, “I don’t personally know any sharks and slave-traders, mind you.”

Chanyeol frowns at the curly-haired lad warily. “I still don’t trust you.”

Jongdae shrugs as he opens his laptop. “You’ll get over it soon.”

 

The actual downside of having Jongdae is not the fact that he may or may not be a shark’s friend and/or slave-seller, but rather, the fact that he holds all control of the flat’s electricity. Kyungsoo had thought he would never experience blackouts ever again, but he was thoroughly wrong: Jongdae can “turn off” electric circuits at will. 

So whenever he is doing paperwork and typing on his laptop saying that he has “work”, he’d do the thing and cut off Baekhyun’s stereo (that’s blasting some idol boyband’s awful title song) and Chanyeol’s telly (right at the climax of a live football match tie breaker) because he wants a “peaceful” environment. 

Except maybe he does not exactly realize that with people like Baekhyun and Chanyeol, peace is not exactly a likely, or possible, phenomenon. 

“Oh come on!” Chanyeol barks, throwing his hands up in the air, practically touching the ceiling. “It’s not like this fucking tie-breaker can last more than a minute! Your work can _wait_ one bloody minute, can’t it? Turn it back on already! Fuck, I’m missing _everything_.”

“My deadlines are tomorrow—”

“—Like I care! Don’t do your shit last minute!”

“Kim Minseok gave me this assignment like, two minutes ago.”

“—Like I care about Kim Minseok. That’s it, come here, I’m burning your testicles.”

“Leave my balls out of this.”

“Then give me my footBALLS match back.”

“You did not just—” Jongdae facepalms.

Baekhyun stays put and quiet at first, pouting at his dead stereo melancholically for a second or two before eyeing Jongdae. Then, he basically starts singing, extremely loudly, the rest of the song that had been looping. 

Kyungsoo shrugs when Jongdae rolls his eyes, saying, “Are they for real?”

But at this point, Kyungsoo is fairly accustomed. 

 

What Kyungsoo is not so accustomed to, is Kim Jongdae being loud as well. His only hint is when he hears Chanyeol’s idiosyncratic _muffled_ laughter from some corner of the house following a loud scream (something to the effect of PARK CHANYEOL I SWEAR I WILL ELECTROCUTE YOU DURING _YOUR_ FUCKING SHOWER) from the bathroom.

“That would kill me,” Chanyeol deadpans. “I just heated the water a teensy bit, like, not enough to burn your perm. That wouldn’t be fair. Who’d heat the food?”

“I WASN’T TRYING TO BE FAIR, WANKER. MY NATURAL CURL IS STRAIGHT NOW, WHAT IN THE BLOODY FUC—”

“WAIT, WHAT _NATURAL CURL_?” Chanyeol shrieks back in sheer horror.

“I tried to stop him,” Baekhyun explains to Kyungsoo fairly solemnly. “I did try to stop him but what are the odds of winning against someone who can burn one’s vocal chords when one only has the ability to _glow_ and sing?”

“I’m sorry?” is all Kyungsoo can really reply, to Baekhyun and the very red Jongdae who storms out of the shower with only a towel over his waist and uncurled flattened hair – that actually looks quite good on him, not going to lie, _damn_ – and Baekhyun looks away promptly while turning highlighter pink, which is a colour Kyungsoo doesn’t remember ever seeing him turn into.

But it’s not like it solves the situation at all, so what Kyungsoo does is throw out the supposedly secret stash of beer and vodka the other three thought he did not know about. With a satanically calm smile upon his face, he uncovers the cans and bottles from behind the inconspicuous potted plant beside the loveseat.

Baekhyun sobs in a corner because those were bought mostly out of his pocket money. 

 

 

“Baekhyun you’re still glowing neon pink,” Chanyeol reminds the lightboy as he nestles into his closet-slash-room. Kyungsoo snuggles into his blanket and covers his head with it, shutting himself away from his flatmates. Jongdae makes his futon on the strip of floor between the couch and the telly. 

“I’ll sleep in the bathtub tonight,” Baekhyun replies, rather downcast, hugging his blanket and pillow to the bathroom. “I’ll close the door.”

And he does, but the pink light seeping from the doorframe and tainting the living room is too much for Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. Jongdae says he’s “fine” but he’s clearly not falling asleep either.

“Baek,” Chanyeol groans, “this is not the time for jokes.”

But to the three other boys’s surprise, Baekhyun does not reply.

 

He doesn’t fall asleep either. He curls up in his blanket against the hard sides of the bathtub, staring at the starless sky from the window, wishing he wasn’t born with such an odd and useless power.

(He also wishes he did not have a dumb crush on Jongdae.) 

(Wishes he did not have visions of Jongdae’s bare torso and straight hair.)  
(While sleeping in the bathroom, no less.)

 

**vi. pink is the new black**

 

“All I see is pink now,” Chanyeol comments rather quietly because he wants to break the silence that has actually lasted an hour. They’ve spent three straight nights with Baekhyun’s fuchsia light at full power, and it is safe to say they are now pretty colour-blind. 

“Well! At least you’ll be seeing life through rose-tinted glasses. You should be thanking me,” Baekhyun replies, albeit a bit spitefully, still glowing a tad, but less intense than at night because the daylight makes it harder to see. 

“I’m not entirely sure that idiom implied anything like this,” Kyungsoo mumbles as he wills away the pink spots in his vision, hands at his temples. Jongdae, on the other hand, looks rather cheerful.

“I’ve never been better!” he chirps and nudges Baekhyun and smiles warmly at him, which inadvertently causes the latter to brighten up a few notches as well as tense up at the touch as if he’s been electrocuted. (Though, technically, that could have actually happened.)

To this, Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow, interest piqued. Chanyeol notices too, narrowing his eyes and gazing from Baekhyun to Jongdae discreetly. He then eyes Kyungsoo, and the shorter nods once, cautiously, before looking away and grabbing the milk carton to pour more milk.

“So,” Kyungsoo clears his throat, “have you figured out how to switch off your um, pink light?”

Baekhyun bites his lower lip and dips his head, staring at the ground as if everyone’s feet were suddenly very intriguing. “I wish.”

Chanyeol swallows dryly. He stands up without further comment and turns on the telly and flips through the channels, signalling that he is out of the conversation. Jongdae pats Baekhyun’s back and squeezes his shoulder to comfort the boy, unaware that he is the whole reason behind this all, unaware that Baekhyun is freezing up even more while turning into a new shade of hot pink. Kyungsoo does not know if he wants to pity Baekhyun or to laugh at him. 

 

 

It’s really until Baekhyun has suddenly disappeared for four days that Kyungsoo and company starts worrying.

 

 

A week later, there’s a quaint knock on the door and all three flatmates pounce on the knob almost simultaneously, Chanyeol’s hand above Kyungsoo’s which is above Jongdae’s. They all withdraw awkwardly, and stand around hesitating before Kyungsoo steps forward, unlocks the door and turns the knob.

They feel relieved to see Baekhyun standing behind a man they think looks familiar but can’t be bothered to decipher why he is, in fact, familiar.

“Baaeeekkkhyyyunnn, I’m sooooo sorrrrry, I miiiiissed you soooooo much, please don’t ever leave us ever again, I w-won’t make fun of your light ever agaaaaain, bhbuububhubh,” Chanyeol sobs crocodile tears, and the unimportant guy next to Baekhyun grimaces in disgust.

“Where have you been? We were very worried,” Jongdae adds, lips puckered.

The Unimportant Guy steps forward. “He’s been at my house for the past fucking week and it’s hell times nine. I’ve come to return him to you. How do you guys cope with all the pink and chatter and pitiful highschool girl cru—?”

Baekhyun whines, pouting, shaking Luhan by the shoulder, and none of the other three men are sure that’s a safe move. “—L-Luhan-ge…p-please…”

Luhan. The eccentric Chinese neighbour from across the street. No wonder he seemed familiar.

Luhan rolls his eyes and roughly tugs Baekhyun’s hands off him. “Don’t you even _try_ cajoling me, Byun Baekhyun, or I will send you out that window and into that nice fire hydrant across the road.”

Kyungsoo steps in, “Right, okay, we’re taking him back, so please just leave before you cause too much.”

He grabs Baekhyun by his shirt, practically flings him to Jongdae’s arms, and closes the door swiftly, leaving Luhan standing out in the hall groaning alone.

“He’s a telekinesis guy,” Baekhyun explains when no one really asks, after his mini heart attack of having been in Jongdae’s arms. “He can throw toasters and fridges at me and-or throw me out the window at will. But he’s a nice guy.”

A silent gap.

“You’re not very sorry, aren’t you,” Kyungsoo says quite seriously as his frown deepens. “You can’t just leave for a week without telling us, live just across from us like a fucking rude joke, break rule number one of not showcasing your power outside of this house, and come back explaining that the Chinese neighbour is a ‘nice’ telekinetic guy with violent tendencies.”

This is probably the longest sentence Kyungsoo has ever said in his entire life, but he wants to get across to Baekhyun that all three of them had been worried sick. He did not expect it to shock the other three into stupor for the first minute. 

“I’m,” Baekhyun starts, biting his upper lip, flushing up a bit more. “I’m really sorry.”

There’s a stiff silence between them before Kyungsoo turns around, shaking his head. He sits on the loveseat, takes up a manga, flips to his bookmark and mutters, “Whatever. I’m glad you’re safe.”

Chanyeol and Jongdae give Baekhyun a sincere group hug, and they grimace at each other stupidly. Chanyeol then offers, in low whispers and darting glances at their landlord, “Kyungsoo tried baiting you with some Asahi beer on his windowsill for some time. He hasn’t thrown them out yet. Maybe we could celebrate…!”

 

 

 **vii. convincing one’s flatmate to confess is not Chanyeol’s forte**

Baekhyun’s pink light still hasn’t eased off quite yet. 

It doesn’t help that Jongdae seems to be getting closer to the former either, touching him unintentionally here, bumping into him unintentionally there, writing the moments to _Baekchen_ history everywhere, and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo can’t help but feel a bit sick in the gut seeing them all over each other. 

“Guys, come on, get a room,” Chanyeol groans when Baekhyun snuggles onto Jongdae’s lap. 

“This is a three and a half,” Jongdae states with a casual smile. “The only room is _your_ room. Are you sure?”

Chanyeol shivers a tad. “Okay, okay, maybe not.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. 

“So, are you guys going out?” Chanyeol tries. Both Baekhyun and Jongdae jolt up, and Baekhyun hops off the other’s lap.

“No?!” they both reply in unison, and then they look at each other. Although Jongdae may be oblivious to it, Kyungsoo can definitely see the pain in Baekhyun’s eyes. Chanyeol sighs very heavily.

 

Two days later, when it’s just Kyungsoo and Baekhyun in the flat – the other two are on grocery duties – Kyungsoo puts down his newspaper and crosses his arms.

“Baek, you need to tell him.”

Baekhyun looks up from his meal. “Tell whom what?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Jongdae. Your crush. The reason you can’t turn off your light.”

Baekhyun pales a bit, and it’s nice to have some of the pink ease off. He titters nervously.

“H-how did you know?”

“I’m practically the omniscient narrator in this entire story.”

“ _Right_.”

Kyungsoo leans forward. “I’m serious. I know you like him a lot. You should tell him instead of torturing yourself with what you have right now. Unless you’re a masochist?”

“You’re not just saying this because you can’t take my pink light— I’m not a masochist!”

Kyungsoo cuts in, “Your light is not the main point anymore. I think it’s fair to say we’re all used to seeing everything pink right now.”

Baekhyun looks down at his food. “I’m sure he doesn’t like me that way. I like what we have now anyways.” A stiff pause. “I’m… I’m a freak of nature who can’t turn my own light off, and I’m basically useless. He’s the second son of some scary mafia family and he can electrocute people and provide electricity. We’re in totally different leagues.”

Kyungsoo looks down at Baekhyun’s food. “You’re putting yourself down, Baek.”

“I’m just saying the truth,” the lightboy whispers. Kyungsoo swallows dryly.

“You’re not useless,” Kyungsoo mutters, “if anyone at all, I’m the one without a superpower. Besides, that’s not what determines one’s usefulness. _You_ can sing really well, and you’re not afraid to let it out. It brings light into our lives. What is life without some music? And what’s music without some strobe light?”

Baekhyun smiles timidly. “You’re a really nice landlord when you’re not throwing out my alcohol stash and armchoking me.”

“You’re welcome,” Kyungsoo says. “You’re a really nice flatmate when you’re not out yodelling your heart out in the streets with a bottle of sake in each hand.”

“I thought you liked my singing.”

“You do realize you go outrageously off-key when you’re drunk.”

Baekhyun laughs, and they both sit back into their seats. The wind blows, and the chimes tinkle lightly.

“Well, you should take your time too, but,” Kyungsoo says, resting his head on the table. “At this point I’m sure confessing will do you good.”

After a few minutes of lighting up a few notches, Baekhyun gulps and nods.

 

 

“Yeol, you go get eggs and meat, I’ll go get milk and butter.”

“Why don’t we just stroll around together and get those things together like two true brothers,” Chanyeol flings an arm around Jongdae’s shoulder, and the latter tenses.

“What are you planning,” Jongdae asks carefully. Chanyeol bites his bottom lip.

“I think you should tell Baekhyun,” he starts as he brings them to the cart area and takes one and starts strolling down aisle “Vegetables”.

“Tell Baekhyun what,” Jongdae asks, but the taller hears the shorter falter a little bit, and that gives him more confidence.

“That you like him?” Chanyeol says casually as he puts cabbage into the cart. Jongdae grabs the lettuce. They walk on, and the cart rattles noisily, but they don’t say a thing, and Chanyeol is not the type of person to let this sort of conversation die too soon.

“Clearly, you like him,” Chanyeol prompts, and the other takes a sharp turn into aisle “Canned Goods” and flings some chicken noodle soup cans into their cart. 

“You’re not denying it,” the taller guy lets go of Jongdae and folds his long arms behind his head. 

The shorter doesn’t say a thing and they continue down until they can turn and they find themselves browsing through the cereal section. They contemplate the boxes and prices. Jongdae then grabs a box of Baekhyun’s favourite, and Chanyeol snorts quite audibly.

“They’re the ones on sale,” Jongdae coughs, and he moves on, picking up some speed. “I still think we should separate the list in two and you go get the bigger half of it, and I’ll do my half. Let’s be a bit more effective.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Look, Dae, I’ve grown to like you a bit more and believe in you a bit more after living with you for some time and realizing your threat was pretty invalid—”

To this, Jongdae turns around and narrows his eyes and stares up, sceptical.

“— so this is why I’m trying to make your life a bit better. You know. Urging you to up your game.”

Jongdae sighs and he runs his hand in his smooth straightened hair. “I don’t think he likes me that way.”

Chanyeol blinks in disbelief. “You can’t be _this_ oblivious.”

Jongdae heaves another heavy sigh. “No, okay, I get that he has a crush on me, that’s why he’s all pink, for all I know, but— I’m not sure if this is going to work. At all. He seems to enjoy what we have now— maybe it’s not a crush after all. I mean, I’m not entirely sure if this is some kind of really deep friendship thing or love per se, or…?”

“But _you_ like him right? Love him?”

“Yeah?”

“Like, you want to kiss him and hold him _tight_ and dream about him every _night_ and all that fluffy rhyme-y stuff, am I right?” Chanyeol urges. Jongdae raises an eyebrow.

“Yes… but I don’t quite like the way you worded that out.”

Chanyeol raises his eyebrow and keeps quiet for two rows before continuing: “There was nothing wrong with how I worded it—”

“—Whatever,” Jongdae shrugs.

Chanyeol punches Jongdae in the shoulder. “You’re thinking too much. I’m sure everything would be tenfold simpler if you just give in to your inner feelings and snog and shag the boy senseless.”

“Can I short-circuit your brain?” Jongdae asks. “That’s my current inner feeling.”

“Oh whatever, I _tried_. I’m not talking to you anymore,” Chanyeol frowns and takes the cart, “Eggs and meat, right?”

“Yep,” Jongdae chirps.

“Race you to the cashier. If I win, you confess to Baekhyun properly, no bloody buts,” Chanyeol challenges. Jongdae just gapes at the taller like he’s just been challenged by a ten-year-old to do something a five-year-old would do.

“Guess you’re too much of a wuss and a loser,” Chanyeol sneers, and the ugliness of the sneer gets to Jongdae more than it should have. 

“Fucking _fine_.”

 

 

“I wonder why they’re not back yet,” Kyungsoo thinks aloud. Baekhyun scratches the back of his neck nervously.

“I hope they did not break rule number one ahahaha…ha…aha… oh god please tell me that was my stomach rumbling.”

They hear thunder crystal clear crashing about a few blocks away. Kyungsoo and Baekhyun just stare at each other for several moments. And then a fire alarm goes off in the distance.

“Oh God have mercy,” Kyungsoo grabs at his hair.

 

 

**viii. power**

Baekhyun runs to the other side of the street, going up Luhan’s building in big strides and trying to get the elder to help with their peculiar situation, while Kyungsoo basically stomps down the road towards the source of chaos.

He arrives to find Chanyeol and Jongdae having an uncivilized kiddie fight, spouting all the swear words they know, running out of them and even saying “Jiminy Cricket” for good measure, as well as some form of “Fuck you, you did NOT win”, throwing fire and thunder balls at each other like they’re playing catch, and there’s really a tangible extent to how much Kyungsoo can take.

He looks at his hands, and back up at the scene, a sort of indescribable rage building up in his gut, and before he knows it, he takes a grab at the ground in front of him, and he _shakes_ it.

 

 

They don’t talk about that day anymore. They escaped a narrow and deadly fate because most of the crowd who gathered around that day could not recognize the people involved in the “strange spectacle” that occurred, according to the news on their telly, and most of the videos or photos taken were deleted by Jongdae after he came to his usual rational senses, so nothing was really left behind.

 

There’s not much scolding needed anymore, since the three now know a casual armchoke could technically mean death, so Kyungsoo just makes sure the cookie jars are too tight for any of them to open, and he makes sure that is the case with the bottles of wine he found behind the potted plant too.

Baekhyun sobs in a corner because he really hadn’t done anything, and the wine had been bought out of _his_ pocket money.

 

Rule Number One Point Sixty Five: Do not ever mention about This Day.

 

 

**ix. the side track**

Two weeks later, the incident way behind their minds and the cause of it undisclosed because Jongdae and Chanyeol prefer not to talk about it, Baekhyun sleeps against his pillow, knees up, back against the cool bottom of the bathtub. 

It’s another starless night in the bathroom, and his pink light is still far from being turned off. He swallows dryly and turns and tosses, but no matter how he does, he’d never exactly find his “bed” quite comfortable.

He’s never had so much trouble sleeping. He wishes he had a bottle of anything. That way he can forget things and sleep in the streets on a pile of trash like the junk he is. Just like his old days before he had stumbled under Kyungsoo’s window and Chanyeol’s nose.

He cringes. That’s not what he meant.

He loves his current life. It’s bright, merry, warm. Unlike his past days that he can’t even remember. His past “friends” he can’t even remember, and who don’t even bother come ask around for him either.

His pink light flickers gently against the tiled walls.

He thinks about what Kyungsoo told him that day. The words echo in his mind as he watches a cloud pass over. 

And then he thinks about Jongdae’s friendly smiles, and he flushes even more. He thinks about Jongdae laughing, he _hears_ him laughing, in his mind, an endearing laughter that makes him want to giggle even though it’s probably midnight and everyone’s asleep.

He thinks about them cuddling on the loveseat, watching a romcom while Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are out for some errand or another. 

He thinks about how his heart had been beating really fast, how Jongdae tells him that his pink light is pretty, how the back of Jongdae’s hand brushes against his when they stand side by side.

And then somehow, this night, he slips into sleep.

 

 

 _I’m going to tell him today,_ Baekhyun decides first thing when he wakes up. 

 

They have breakfast as per usual, Chanyeol gets Kyungsoo to open the jam jar, and Jongdae is just sitting there eating his toast like every other morning, and then Baekhyun basically freezes because his courage is caught somewhere between his chest and throat, and he breaks into cold sweat instead.

“Baek, are you okay?” Jongdae asks. Baekhyun smiles nervously, his mouth forming a rectangle.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Haha, what makes you ask that?”

“Well, you’re extremely bright right now, for one,” Jongdae remarks, and Baekhyun wishes he were invisible. The former rubs Baekhyun’s shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

Baekhyun bites his lip. “I— Maybe it’s the heat getting to me? I’ll go out for a walk.”

Kyungsoo grabs the fairyboy’s wrist before he gets the chance to leave the flat, and whispers, “You’re coming back, right?”

Baekhyun bites his lip. “I won’t risk you armchoking me haha. It’s fine, I just need some air.”

Chanyeol calls out from the table, “Bring a scarf, I think it’s colder today.”

Baekhyun smiles, “Will do!”

He then glances at Jongdae – their eyes meet, and he catches a glimpse of genuine concern, but he looks away fast – before heading out the door.

 

 

In daylight and in the cold, his pink cheeks don’t stand out, and he takes the opportunity to stay out until the sun starts heading down. When he gets back, Kyungsoo is cooking at the stove, and Chanyeol is dusting the penguin statuettes. He looks around for Jongdae, and his only clue is the closed door of the washroom.

“Jongdae’s in the washroom,” Chanyeol says. “I don’t suggest you go in there for a while.”

Baekhyun grimaces. “I… wasn’t planning on that?”

Chanyeol grins. “Well, just in case!” 

The taller finishes dusting off the windowsill and strides over to the kitchen.

“What’s cooking,” Chanyeol asks casually as he approaches Kyungsoo from behind. Baekhyun unwraps his scarf and settles on the loveseat, taking up a manga volume that’s been discarded on the floor in front of him.

An hour later, Jongdae has still not come out, and Baekhyun decides to be conceivably worried.

“Is Jongdae alright?” Baekhyun mutters. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol look up in sync, the action being rather suspicious.

“Yeah,” they both say together before looking at each other and then saying simultaneously again, “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Baekhyun knows something is up. There is no other way Park Chanyeol and Do Kyungsoo can be on the same wavelength otherwise. He goes to the washroom door and knocks and calls out, “Hey Dae, are you okay? Did you eat something particularly bad?”

He can hear Chanyeol muffling his laughter, but he ignores it and keeps rapping at the door.

“Hold up, will you, this thing I’m doing is tedious as fuck.”

Baekhyun gapes at the door and takes a step back, before just backtracking quietly to his seat on the couch. “…”

This time, even Kyungsoo is muffling his laughter, and Baekhyun is starting to wonder if he should be very, _very_ worried. 

 

He starts sweating profusely in anxiety when it’s been hours since Jongdae has been in there, and Chanyeol and Kyungsoo have even gone out, casually, like it’s nothing that one of their flatmates has been locked up their only toilet for god knows how long, so he’s just sitting there glowing between light pink and puke green, and feeling terribly uneasy.

And before he manages to gather enough courage to ask again, Jongdae walks out of the toilet with a big smile on his face, his arms gesturing at the washroom.

“Okay Baek, come on in.”

Baekhyun pretty much faints.

 

 

He wakes up with his back against the familiar curve of the bathtub bed he sleeps in, and he gasps as his eyes gleam over the walls of the washroom.

There, around him, are perhaps a good thousand of glow-in-the-dark stickers peppered about in a non-uniform way, stars big and small, moon crescents and planets and meteorites and asteroids, glowing in a friendly and familiar manner across the tiles, like a silent galaxy waiting for his wake.

They are radiant, iridescent and soothing too, and it’s pleasant to see them against the dark walls Baekhyun never bothered looking at otherwise. They brighten the night skies and make Baekhyun feel comfortable in the washroom. He even sort of thinks of it as his own bedroom now. 

“How do you like it?” Baekhyun jolts at the voice because he had not realized Jongdae had been next to the bathtub – next to _him_ – this whole time. He looks at the other guy in awe, eyes glimmering.

“I—” he barely starts, but the words are caught in his throat.

Next thing he knows, Jongdae leans in and kisses him softly, gently, lightly, a hand in his hair.

“I like you,” Jongdae then confesses against Baekhyun’s lips, making the latter tremble.

 

“I like you too,” Baekhyun then whispers back after a while, their noses bumping, his body light slowly turning into a gentler pastel pink before fading away, leaving the two alone amidst the star-lit room.

 

 

 

**x. life as is**

A week after that, Jongdae and Baekhyun prove to be boldly embarrassing, kissing and making out literally everywhere, and there is a tangible extent to how much Kyungsoo can take, and Chanyeol would pat him on his back and say, “there there”, like they’re supposed to be old granddaddies watching younger generations bloom.

It gets worse when Kyungsoo finds out he’s actually the youngest of the four, and that Baekhyun is the eldest. He can’t believe it, but so far there are a lot of things that have happened in the past few months that he cannot exactly believe either.

Whenever Kyungsoo thinks back on how it all started, he smirks sheepishly on his own, conjuring up the days when his life had been simple and black, quiet and cold, lonely and inevitably boring. When literally nothing happened and the diary he had whimsically bought one day was empty and blank.

Now that’s it’s much too different, he finds it hard to reimagine such past moments.

He peeks from above his manga volume at the three others who have made his apartment a totally different place.

Sure, he has his penguin statuettes, hand-me-down loveseat, black clothes, what have you. But it’s significantly more colourful than just that.

Maybe having three more people in his flat meant that he had to sacrifice a lot of things and personal space, but then again, maybe he’d rather have that because however much he lost, he gained more in exchange: a superpower, actual colours, noise, friends, a family, and that really warm feeling in his chest he can’t seem to describe.

Maybe it gets annoying when Chanyeol barks loudly when they watch football matches together, or when Baekhyun and Jongdae forget they are in a tiny flat with not many privacy options, and one or two can’t just take off their pants right in the middle of the living room, … or when they all drag Kyungsoo to the karaoke and realize in utter shock that he can actually sing and that they have all lost a bet against Park Chanyeol.

 

But he _likes_ his life as is. 

 

“Kyungsoo, Chanyeol just burnt your gran’s wood chimes there,” Baekhyun singsongs.

“I did not!”

“You’re the only one with fire, bro, tough luck,” Jongdae tweets.

 

Kyungsoo _definitely_ , _still_ likes it, despite the vein popping at his forehead.


End file.
